


Will you be my dumbass?

by Mysecretfanmoments



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:25:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 18,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4423067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysecretfanmoments/pseuds/Mysecretfanmoments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of kagehina ficlets/drabbles x-posted to my tumblr; ratings vary by piece & will be stated!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Will you be my dumbass?

**Author's Note:**

> getting together -- rated T

It starts with a beam of light filtering in through one of the gym’s high windows. Tobio watches, noticing dust motes, patterns—the fall of it on Hinata’s face, transforming him into a study of light and dark. He’s standing with his arms at his sides, catching his breath. His eyes are closed, and for a short moment Tobio allows himself to look.

The ache in Tobio’s chest returns.

His hand bunches in his shirt, over his heart. He’s not stupid; he’s not. This realization has been dawning on him for a while, now, but he has been pushing it away with both hands.

The more he pushes, though, the more inevitable it seems.

“Kageyama-kun?”

It’s Sugawara-san, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asks.

Tobio nods tightly, letting his hand drop. He can just about feel the understanding rolling off Sugawara in waves, because of course his upperclassman has noticed; how could he not?

It just makes it feel worse.

“Want to talk about it?”

Tobio shakes his head, and Sugawara drops the subject.

 

* * *

 

 

“Oi!”

The shout rings loud in the near-empty gym. Tobio and Hinata are the only ones present since Tanaka left— _there’s a limit to how much guys should practice, you know_ —and there is a burning feeling in Tobio’s stomach when he looks at Hinata.

“What?” he snaps. He wants to toss another—another—until he can feel that connection again. Everything feels so out of sync lately, even on the court.

“What is with you today?!”

 _Today?_  Tobio thinks. It’s not just today; it’s been weeks. Everything hurts, somehow: seeing Hinata—not seeing Hinata—scenery—the news—parents holding hands with their children.  _Everything_. When he’s with Hinata his heart pounds and fire floods his veins, his body light—but guilt sickens him. Guilt and despair.

 _You toss to me just fine_ , Hinata had said.  _I’ll take any toss I can get. Gratefully._

How long would that last, if Tobio didn’t get this dumb crush under control?

“What’s with me?” he asks. “Most spikers could hit that toss, you know. Are you sure you want to be the ace?”

Hinata’s eyes widen. For a moment his hands go slack, his shoulders rising defensively—but then anger stiffens his spine. “ _What the hell, Kageyama?”_

Tobio waits.

“Why the hell would you say something like that? I haven’t done anything!”

His chest is hurting again. He slides his palm over his heart, rubbing back and forth. “We’ve been at this for an hour, and your timing is still shit.” He takes a breath. “This isn’t the time for a break. Come on, get in position.”

Hinata stares. “No, I don’t think so.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You think you can just—just be mean like that, for no reason? I’m done. I don’t want to practice anymore.” And he means it, too—he starts to walk. He leaves the volleyball cart where it is, doesn’t try to pick up the ball that rolled over to the wall. He just leaves.

Once his steps have retreated, Tobio gasps a breath, another—and then he sinks to the ground right where he stands. He rests his head against his knees, the way he used to when he got carsick, and wraps his arms around his head. He waits to catch his breath, but it only seems to be coming faster; his heart won’t stop racing.

 _So dramatic_ , he thinks. He tries to huff a laugh—tries to imagine what Tsukishima would say:  _Wow, you actually managed to make Hinata want to stop practicing. A new high point for the egotistical king._

This wasn’t how it was meant to go. He was supposed to beat the crush and move on with his life—move on alongside Hinata, as his teammate and nothing more. He wasn’t meant to make Hinata look like that, like he’d been betrayed, and Tobio wasn’t supposed to feel the way he does now.

His hands slide into his hair. Hinata’s face rises in his mind’s eye: all his smiles, his pouts, the unnerving look he gets during games sometimes. It all dissolves into the look of hurt he’d had before he left. Tobio sits shaking, curled up around himself.

“Kageyama?”

He jumps. It’s Hinata’s voice; why did he come back?

“Kageyama?” Running steps, then a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, not looking up. “I’m really sorry. That wasn’t fair.”

“Yeah,” Hinata says. “I know. You can be really mean, you know.”

“I know.”

“But usually when you’re mean it’s because you’re making a point.” Hinata withdraws his hand, and Tobio can see how he’s sitting from the slice of peripheral vision he has: knees drawn up, arms around them. “I don’t mind it when you’re mean those times.”

“Th-that’s good.” His former teammates had.

“I’m going to push you over now, okay?”

“You’re wha—?”

A solid push sends him sprawling, but before he can recover himself Hinata is holding him down, his hands at Tobio’s shoulders. From this position Hinata’s hair is haloed in light, making him look like a very human sort of angel, flushed face and all. Tobio forgets to glare.

“Suga-san said to be gentle with you,” Hinata says. “Why is that? What’s wrong?”

“He said that? Where is he?”

“No—last week.”

The day he caught Tobio looking, then. “He’s… you should ask him.”

“I did, and he wouldn’t say. Hey, Kageyama?”

“What?”

“You can tell me, you know. Whatever it is.”

Tobio takes in Hinata’s earnest expression, the worried tilt of his mouth. He probably could—maybe. But the thought that they could lose what they have now is a powerful deterrent.

 _Hey, Hinata_ , he thinks.  _I’m going to pull you down, okay?_

He doesn’t say it, though, unlike Hinata—he just does it. Hinata falls on him heavily, yelping, his face landing in Tobio’s chest. Tobio wraps his arms around his shoulders and waits for a response, wondering what Hinata will do, and when all Hinata does is sigh, Tobio’s heart starts to hammer.

 _Why are you letting me do this?_  he wants to ask, but he can’t—because that means admitting this is not normal friend behavior. It isn’t Hinata draping himself over him to get a look at the book he’s reading, or Tobio ruffling Hinata’s hair after a good match, or Hinata falling asleep on his shoulder on the bus. Those things are allowed. This is not.

“Hey, Hinata,” he says.

“Hm?”

“You’re still going to compete on the highest level, right? Even after school?”

“Huh?”

“That’s still what you want to do, right? You want to beat me?”

Hinata is quiet for a long time. “Well, yeah. I guess I want to beat you, because I promised myself I would, but—”

Tobio’s heart aches.  _But?_

“But I think I’d like to be on your side of the net for it.”

Something loosens inside of Tobio, something that used to be coiled tight and painful. “Because of our quick?”

Hinata raises himself up onto his elbows to look at Tobio’s face. “That, too. But it feels right, doesn’t it—us playing together? We’re meant to be on the same team.”

Tobio’s face warms in response, and he moves his arm to cover his blush, hiding in the crook of his elbow. “Dumbass! That’s embarrassing.”

But he can feel the heat of Hinata’s body against his, and Hinata’s breath gusting against his collar, and it’s his reaction that’s embarrassing, not what Hinata’s saying.

“Hey,” Hinata says, unaffected. “Hey, move your arm.”

“N-no.”

Fingers fold around his, and Hinata wrenches his arm out of the way, peering at his face. Tobio knows he’s still blushing; he can’t help the warmth he feels or the way something inside him melted when Hinata said he wanted to be on the same side of the net. He’s done for, completely and utterly.

“I’m going to kiss you, okay?” Hinata says, and Tobio freezes in abject terror.

“ _What!_ ”

Hinata leans forward, and Tobio stares, and then—he feels the soft press of lips against his cheek.

His cheek? “What was that for?!”

“You looked really cute. And I’m supposed to be gentle, right?” He grins.

Tobio sits up, dislodging Hinata. The other boy scrambles to right himself, looking up at Tobio in question.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he says. His heart feels just about ready to burst, but he’ll say it—because maybe that’s the only way for them to connect again. “I like you. D-different from the way I like our other teammates.”

Color rises in Hinata’s cheeks, patchy and bright. “Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“That’s what’s wrong with you?”

 _Wrong_. He nods.

“Well, that’s fine, then.”

Tobio looks up in shock.  _Fine?_  There’s nothing fine about it. He’s about to yell something, turn his anguish to anger, when Hinata moves forward so their faces are inches apart. “Wh-what?” Tobio manages.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Hinata says. “Okay?”

Tobio nods, stunned. He waits, meeting Hinata’s inquiring gaze, and then he sees Hinata’s lids lowering. He closes his eyes. One, two, three—and he feels warmth against his lips. His hands ball into fists, his whole body tight with nerves as it struggles to figure out how to react. Does he lean into the kiss? Does he touch Hinata? Does this mean—does this mean it’s not one-sided?

Hinata draws back, his eyelids still lowered. “I like you too.”

Lightning strikes Tobio’s heart, and he gasps a breath. “Why didn’t you say, dumbass?!”

“Why didn’t  _I_  say?” Hinata looks up and laughs incredulously. “Why didn’t  _you_ say? Stupid! Stupid Kageyama!”

He jumps, intent on punishing Tobio, and a moment later they’re on the ground wrestling just like old times. A hand is planted in Tobio’s face, pushing, and he’s fairly sure he has Hinata’s calf clamped between his legs. Indistinct growling from Hinata tells him he might be winning, and he bites back a grin. He finds Hinata’s side, where the right amount of pressure will make him squeal, and within moments he  _knows_  he’s winning.

“Stop! Stop!” Hinata yells. “Fine, we’re both dumbasses. I’ll admit it.”

There is a sun inside Tobio’s body, lighting up the dark places. He looks at Hinata, tangled up with him, cheek smushed into Tobio’s elbow—and the flutter of his heart doesn’t feel weighted by guilt or despair. It doesn’t hurt, for once.

He lets go slowly. Hinata sits up, facing him, and Tobio kneels in front of him. “Will you be my dumbass?” Tobio asks, his fingers gentle against Hinata’s jaw. He watches color spread over Hinata’s cheeks.

“Fine,” Hinata says, voice a little breathy. Then he glares. “But we’re not telling people that’s how you asked me.”

This time it’s Tobio who moves in for the kiss. This time, he’s not afraid to touch.


	2. Library Quest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Popular kid / nerd au (oh gosh) -- rated G

Mr. Popular was in the library again. 

It would be a bigger problem if Shouyou was there to study, probably, but as it was it was still annoying hearing the titters of girls, the I’m-talking-this-way-to-impress-you-deep voice of Mr. Popular’s friend with the turnip hair—and then there was Mr. Popular, whose replies were generally monosyllabic and stilted.

 _Why is that guy popular?_  Shouyou thought, for the nth time. Or maybe he was just tagging along with turnip-head, who might be popular? But no—the normal-haired boy was the only one who ever bothered to have a book out in front of him, so he was  _probably_  the one who’d brought the posse in here.

Maybe he played sports, or something.

Shouyou glanced back down at his book: a beautifully illustrated guidebook for Valkyrie Quest, the tabletop game he’d loved since he was about eight years old. His general obsession with it hadn’t earned him many friends, but it  _had_  sent him on a lot of adventures. This weekend his friend group was getting together again, and Shouyou could hardly wait.

“Hey, hey,” one of the girls said. “The librarian is glaring at us again. We should go to the cafeteria!”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Turnip said, glancing at his friend.

“You go,” said Mr. Popular, and turned the page.

 _They want you to go, stupid_ , Shouyou thought, watching the group sag. How could Popular not see? Was he the most oblivious person in the world? Did he  _really_  like the library that much? It was hard for Shouyou to focus on Valkyrie Quest, and it would be his turn to create a campaign next month; he’d begged and begged to be given a turn. He had to focus.

“Kageyama- _kuuuun_ ,” a girl complained. “Why do you always want to read?” _  
_

Shouyou would like to know that, too. For the past month he’d been coming in and disrupting Shouyou’s library time; precious time when he could read and text Kenma in peace. He was tempted to tell them to go away—except that was how he’d made his last mortal enemy, and so-called Kageyama had a really scary face whenever their eyes met.

Which they did, right then. Kageyama sent him an impressive glare and ducked his head over his book.

"Reading.”

“But it’s… upside-down…”

Shouyou clapped his hands over his mouth, trying not to make a sound. It was hard. Sulky over there was  _pretending_  to read? Did people get any more stupid than that?

“…it’s an experiment…”

“Oh! To improve your concentration? You’re so dedicated!” There was a chorus of approval, high voices chiming in.

Shouyou pulled his hoodie over his mouth, still choking back laughter. There were tears gathering in his eyes with the effort. _  
_

“Right, that’s it,” the librarian said, walking over to Kageyama’s table. “This table is too loud. It always is. Anyone who doesn’t have a book out in front of them, out. You four. The one with the book out can stay.”

There was a wave of protests, which she shut down. As the posse left, Shouyou thought he saw Kageyama’s surly face relax just a little.

Huh.

Shouyou looked back down at his book, smiling when he remembered Kageyama’s pretend-reading. He’d text Kenma about it later, he resolved. He was still smiling when a dark figure loomed next to him.

Shouyou’s shoulders rose, and he looked up. “W-what? Got a problem?”

Kageyama’s glare bore down on him. “Can I sit here.”

“That’s a question?”

“Obviously.”

Shouyou’s eyes narrowed. “Because you look like you’re going to twist my arm off if I say no.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Okay then.”

Kageyama sat, placing his book in front of him—right side up this time.

“What is that?” he asked, nodding at Shouyou’s guidebook.

“A guidebook,” Shouyou said, and felt caution leave him. “For this  _really_  great game that you play with your friends—it’s called Valkyrie Quest—you go on adventures, and one person leads the play, and you roll dice to figure out if you’re going to win and it’s  _so_ exciting but hardly anyone knows about it—not here, at least, and—” Shouyou paused, seeing complete noncomprehension on Kageyama’s face. “And it’s really cool,” he finished weakly.

"Oh.”

Awkward silence descended, and Shouyou looked back down at his book with flushed cheeks. Of course he wasn’t interested; no one was at this school.

“I saw you play football. In middle school.”

“Huh?” Shouyou said. Well, that explained why Kageyama was popular at least: football. Shouyou had played it in middle school for a while—that was true—but only because his friends did. He had no interest in kicking a black and white ball down a pitch repeatedly; he’d been hoping to meet other people who might play Valkyrie Quest with him. 

“You were really good. Fast.”

Shouyou’s eyes widened. “ _That’s_  why you keep coming in here? To recruit me? I don’t want to play football!”

“N-no.”

“Huh? Why then?”

Kageyama looked away. “Meet you.”

Shouyou wasn’t sure he heard right. “Meet me? What for, if you’re not trying to get me to play?”

Chair legs scraped the floor. Kageyama had stood up, seeming intent on running away now that he’d thoroughly confused Shouyou. Shouyou wasn’t letting him, though. He grabbed his wrist, and saw him go red.

Kageyama sat back down just as abruptly as he’d sat up.

“Well?” Shouyou asked, not letting go.

“Why do you like the game so much?”

 _What does that have to do with anything?_ “Valkyrie Quest?”

Kageyama nodded, looking down at Shouyou’s hand around his wrist.

“It’s—just a whole world. You get to imagine things you’d never see in real life. You can be anyone you want to be.”

Another nod.

“ _Why?_ ”

“I was curious.”

Shouyou blinked. “Okay, well, curiosity satisfied, right?”

“Can you teach me?”

“What?”

“Valk… the quest thing. Can you teach me the game?”

Shouyou felt a flutter inside of his ribcage. No way.  _No way_. Mr. Popular was interested in playing? His whole body lit up at the thought of having someone at his school to talk about this with, but then—no. Shouyou’s eyes narrowed. “You have ulterior motives, don’t you?”

“What?! Why would you say that? I don’t!”

“You do! You got all flustered! What is it?”

“Can’t you just—”

“Not unless you tell me.”

Kageyama looked away. It seemed like maybe he was going to leave, and Shouyou thought about rescinding his demand, but then Kageyama spoke.

“I like you. Maybe.”

“Wh-what?” Shouyou asked, laughing. “Like you think I look friendly? Well, thanks.”

Kageyama sighed heavily, grabbing his hand. He pressed Shouyou’s fingers to his neck, over his pulse. Shouyou felt the rapid beat of Kageyama’s heart, way faster than the situation warranted.

“Like that,” Kageyama said. “I like you like that, probably.”

Warmth flooded Shouyou’s face, and when Kageyama let go Shouyou cradled his hand to his chest as if it had been burned. He thought back over the last month, since the first time Kageyama had sat in here with his posse, and a lot of things started clicking into place: the glares, the glances, the way Kageyama seemed totally oblivious to the girls’ obvious flirting even as his friend melted.

“Oh,” Shouyou said smartly.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know if I like you back.”

Kageyama flushed. “I didn’t ask you to, did I?”

“You want to spend time with me? And that time can be spent playing Valkyrie Quest?”

Kageyama nodded, and a grin broke out on Shouyou’s face.

“Okay then.”


	3. Rivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretending to hate each other AU where Kageyama is at Shiratorizawa -- rated T

“You still want to beat me, right?”

Shouyou looked up. His uniform was stuck to his back with sweat, his face hot with the blood rushing through it. They’d just lost to Shiratorizawa—a resounding defeat—and it seemed Kageyama Tobio had come to gloat as Shouyou sat catching his breath outside.

“We will,” Shouyou said, looking at Kageyama’s feet. It was his hands that Shouyou should be looking at—the hands that brought the ball without fail to Shiratorizawa’s ace, over and over, for a spike deadlier than Shouyou had ever seen—but he couldn’t look at them. 

“What the hell was that?!”

“Huh?”

“You sound weak.”

Shouyou  _felt_  weak. It was his second year of high school, and he was still no match for the person he’d sworn to beat in middle school. Karasuno’s team was strong, but somehow they just couldn’t get past certain obstacles—obstacles such as the setter in front of him, who’d followed him out of the gym and found him having a pity party on the grass outside. Which wasn’t something archenemies were supposed to do.

Shouyou tried to muster a glare, looking up at Kageyama’s towering form. “Go away.”

Kageyama squatted, bringing their faces almost level. Shouyou swallowed familiar fear, telling himself players from opposing teams didn’t just beat their opponents up for no reason. He hoped Kageyama knew that too; his expression was one of the worst Shouyou had seen in two years of constant mutual glaring.

“What’s with you?!” Kageyama asked. He sounded as pissed as he looked.

And then Shouyou was horrified to feel his eyes fill and spill over, tears tracking down his cheeks. “We lost, okay?! I’m allowed to feel bad!”

He pulled the bottom of his shirt up, hiding his face in it. Oh god. Oh god, he was sobbing with his archrival sitting in front of him. When he managed to wipe his face and look up, Kageyama was staring at him, looking stricken.

“Go away,” Shouyou said again, but this time his voice was watery. Kageyama Tobio was fire in his belly, tingles in his hands. He was the future—a goal—whatever it was when one person turned your thoughts sharp and clear. If everything else disappeared tomorrow, at least Shouyou would have had a worthy archrival, someone who made him want to be the best—provided he didn’t do something stupid, like sob and make said rival feel sorry for him, or disgusted, or whatever hid behind those dark eyes. 

He was already having trouble keeping up; he knew he was always losing to Kageyama. This could just about be the nail in the coffin for their rivalry. No more glares. It wouldn’t surprise him if Kageyama forgot about him now.

From nowhere—or from Kageyama’s pocket, which made even less sense—a handkerchief appeared, mopping at his face roughly. Shouyou looked up in surprise.

Kageyama’s mouth was tight, his brows low.

“Don’t,” Shouyou said, only crying more. This was it: he was no longer Kageyama Tobio’s rival. Rivals didn’t mop each other’s crying faces, he was pretty sure. “Stop, I’m your rival—your rival—”

“I know,” Kageyama said, the crease between his brows still evident. “Stop crying, idiot.”

“I’m still your rival?”

“Didn’t you say however long it takes? Not ‘until I give up in my second year of high school’?” Again there was anger in Kageyama’s voice.

“I did! But I thought… you…”

“No.  _Dumbass_. You’re getting better. A lot better—way more coordinated, and your team is improving too. Why would it stop now?”

And then the tears started feeling different—relieved tears, that stopped quickly as Shouyou took the cloth handkerchief and dried them, an amazed smile replacing the look of abject misery. His chest felt light with wonder.

"You mean it?” Shouyou asked, searching Kageyama’s face for the answer—and then Kageyama’s face wasn’t there.

Or rather, it was  _there_. Right in front of Shouyou’s face, his lips soft against Shouyou’s open mouth. Shouyou forgot how to breathe, his whole body going slack with surprise. It felt… warm. Sort of nice, in a new way, though it didn’t last long enough for Shouyou to sort out his thoughts.

Kageyama drew back, eyes hooded. “Don’t say we’re not rivals anymore.”

 _That isn’t something rivals do either_ , Shouyou thought, with ninety percent certainty, but his palms were sweaty and his heart felt like it might beat out of his chest. His whole body felt fluttery—was that fear? He hoped it was fear, even if fear hadn’t felt like this before.

“I w-won’t,” Shouyou said. “I’ll beat you. Next time.”

Kageyama smiled—a rare, genuine smile. That in itself was almost as scary as his usual smiles. Almost. “Good,” he said, and stood up.

“Uh, your handkerchief—” Shouyou said, holding up the wet, white cloth. He could see blue embroidery spelling out the characters of Kageyama’s name, leaves stitched about the borders; it was probably special.

“Keep it. In exchange for the kiss.”

“I—what—you can’t do that! That was my first kiss, you know! It’s more expensive than a handkerchief!”

“Mine too. So it’s fair.”

Shouyou flushed and stood up, wiping grass off his shorts. “It’s not,” he said, sneaking a glance at Kageyama’s face. “You should buy me food too.”

“Okay,” Kageyama said. It embarrassed Shouyou to have him agree so readily—it embarrassed Shouyou that he’d made the suggestion—but there were flutters in his belly again.

“Not like a date!” he said, just to make sure. “Like a rival thing.”

“Okay,” Kageyama said again, starting back towards the gym. His long strides had him back on the pavement in no time, but he turned when he saw Shouyou hadn’t followed. “Well? Are you coming?”

“Yeah,” Shouyou said, running to catch up.


	4. till you've drowned in the light, in the sound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meeting at a masquerade ball AU, rated T!

The preparations had been arduous: learning the steps, getting the outfits, fighting over who wore what mask—but halfway through the night Shouyou knew their fundraiser was a success. There were so many guests—so many admittance tickets bought—and more seemed to be streaming in. Their nationals trip was going to be  _awesome_ , and everything would have been perfect—if it wasn’t for the guy who kept trying to outshine him.

He wasn’t from Shouyou’s team, he was sure, because the mask over his eyes was unfamiliar: black and silver to Shouyou’s gold and white. He gave off an infuriatingly cool aura, one Shouyou could never project thanks to his height and—to a lesser extent—his tendency to mess up and laugh until he and his partner were both laughing and messing up and struggling to keep up. So Shouyou added new flourishes, making up for his lack of grace— _  
_

And Mr. Cool over there, who probably hadn’t spent two weeks learning steps, kept  _trying to outdo him_. He was ninety percent certain it was on purpose, too. At one point, the guy even tossed his partner.

 _It’s not that kind of dance!_   Shouyou thought, wishing he could toss his partner. Her dress was too big, though, and he wasn’t confident he’d be able to catch her.

He competed the best he could, and when the dance came to a close, he finally decided he’d had enough. He stomped up to his rival, tempted to rip his mask off and glare properly—but Sugawara had decreed that they could only take their masks off after midnight. That was a thing, apparently, in wherever-these-things-happened at whenever-they-happened, way back when.

“Stop competing with me!” Shouyou said. “You’re ruining the dance!”

Black-and-silver folded his arms. “Then stop trying to compete with me.”

So it  _had_  been on purpose.

“I’m not. I just wondered who was doing all the steps  _wrong_ …”

"Just because you can’t do it—”

“You don’t toss people in that dance! It wouldn’t have been… mod… modest, in the time it was performed.” He hadn’t listened to two weeks of Sugawara’s lessons for nothing; he’d win this argument. _  
_

“You’re just jealous because you can’t.”

“I—what—I’m not!”

“Want me to toss you?”

Shouyou imagined flying up, the music from the band rising up around him, lights above the ballroom shining—and a flush traveled through him. All he had to do was swallow his pride and it could happen.

Fine. He wasn’t that prideful.

“Y… yes…”

The other boy reached out, and for a moment they struggled because Shouyou was still trying to lead—but then he remembered the follow’s steps, from when he practiced with the team. His height had made him a popular follow, and he’d endured Tanaka’s practice pick-up lines for more than one afternoon.

He stepped into the proper form—another dance had started, but there was space, here, it seemed to have opened up recently—and then his rival was whirling him about the room, and then his hand shifted on Shouyou’s waist, and they dipped, and somehow Shouyou knew this was it—the moment to boost himself up, so he could be pushed higher—

And Shouyou  _soared_. He’d never jumped this high by himself. He could see light, people, masks—everything glittering. A grin swept over his face, and strong hands caught him.

Somehow, the dance didn’t end there. The boy continued to lead, and Shouyou continued to follow, caught up in the feeling of hands connecting and music and air rushing by and those  _tosses_ , higher each time. He felt drunk on life, unwilling for the music to end.

It did end, though.

Shouyou stood catching his breath, aware of the other boy’s fast breathing, their bodies still connected, a hand warm on Shouyou’s side. They were still holding hands, as if they were about to sweep into another dance—another dance had started, though one of the more boring ones—but they stood completely still.

He couldn’t stop staring up at his partner, wondering if he felt the same amazing connection Shouyou did. It felt like they were in perfect sync—a feeling he got on the court sometimes, with the team, but nowhere else. It was addicting; he wanted to feel it again.

The hand holding his dropped, gently, coming up to catch his face instead. Long fingers touched Shouyou’s jawline in a caress, and Shouyou thought:  _Oh. So that’s what I’m feeling_. His heart raced, terror and excitement filling him in equal measures.

The boy froze, suddenly, seeming to notice where they were. He stepped back—but Shouyou grabbed his hand before he could disappear in the crowd. He held on tight to the stranger as he led him out of the ballroom, into the open air outside the gym. Fairy lights hung up around the main building provided light to see by, and the cool night air enveloped them.

He turned to face his unknown partner, heart jumping furiously. It was his club’s fundraiser—the stranger knew him, probably—so he started working on the ties at the back of his head. It would be midnight soon enough. His mask came off, and he swiped at his face to remove the sweat that had collected beneath it. Next, he looked up at the masked stranger—and saw him, hesitantly, begin to work on his own mask.

The mask dropped away, and Shouyou’s ears stopped working. He could no longer hear the sweet notes drifting out to them from the open door—couldn’t hear his own harsh breathing—because all he could do was stare at the boy in front of him, who stood glaring down at him, a dark blush on his face.

 _Shit_ , Shouyou thought.  _Shit shit shit shit shit_. He was never doing a masquerade thing again, not even if it made for a great fundraiser. He’d never talk to anyone with a mask again, either—because it could only lead to bad things—because it  _had_  led to bad things, just now; Shouyou was fairly sure he’d just fallen in love with Kageyama Tobio—supreme rival, king of the court, and overall mean person—and as they stood together under the stars and fairy lights, music swelling, all he wanted to do was rise up and close that last distance between them.

“Well?” Kageyama said, still glaring down at him.

“Well  _what_?” It slipped out of Shouyou’s mouth before he had a chance to think about it. He still wanted to get up on his tip toes and kiss Kageyama’s stupid face, despite the forbidding expression—except now that the mask was off that seemed about ten times harder. Would it be bad for him to ask Kageyama to put the mask back on?

"Forget i—”

Shouyou grabbed Kageyama before he could escape. He wasn’t sure if it was the night air or the silly, inner part of him that screamed  _no_  the moment he saw Kageyama start to move away, but he couldn’t bear to have him leave. And now they were touching again—not in the perfect harmony from earlier, but messy, Shouyou’s grip tight on Kageyama’s arm, his face twisted into a frown.

The pink in Kageyama’s cheeks returned.

“That was pretty cool,” Shouyou said resentfully.  _Pretty cool_  didn’t cut it. Pretty cool was getting an extra ice cream at Ukai’s shop, or when his socks matched. Dancing with Kageyama had been  _amazing_.

He wouldn’t say that, though.

“Did you plan it out?” he asked.

“No! Why—our captain wanted us to support you guys. That’s all.”

“Hmmm.”

“ _Hmmm_  what?” Kageyama asked, sounding surprisingly… vulnerable.

“Lift me.”

“Throw you?”

“No, lift me.” Shouyou hitched his thumb at the sky. “Up.”

Kageyama’s hands moved slowly to circle his waist, and Shouyou felt himself being lifted, the pressure uncomfortable around his middle. It wasn’t like being tossed; being tossed was flight itself, and right now he was being held at arm’s length—but Kageyama was looking up at him in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever been looked at before, and it made his stomach feel very light.

“Closer,” he said, and when Kageyama obeyed Shouyou took the chance to wrap his arms and legs around him. Kageyama’s breath hitched, and the hands that had been holding him up slid behind his back, their shaking noticeable. His eyes were wide.

“Wh-what are you…”

Inside the gym, the music was working its way into a crescendo, and Shouyou let it guide him the way it had during the dance. His mouth found Kageyama’s, and there was another hitch of breath—and then Kageyama was kissing him back the way he’d obviously wanted to inside, when only one of them had known who the other was. Shouyou felt as if the fairy lights around him had taken up residence inside his body, sparking wildly. Kageyama’s clumsy kiss stole his breath away completely, and he wanted  _more_ , now, to breathe in all of him in a blur of lips and hands and teeth.

The music wound down, and both of them drew back just a bit, Shouyou letting his forehead rest on Kageyama’s, his eyes closing.

“That was pretty cool,” Shouyou said softly. He felt Kageyama’s hand travel up to touch his hair, just lightly, a whisper of a caress.

“Yeah,” Kageyama whispered back.


	5. At my wedding?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in September of 2014 and nearly a year later it still makes me laugh. Two miserable people meeting at a wedding AU, featuring Oikawa. Rated T!

Oikawa had put him in the wedding party against his express wishes.

Or rather, Oikawa had put him in the wedding party  _because_ of his express wishes not to be in it—Tobio was fairly sure that was the case, at least. Despite the fact that it was all Oikawa’s fault, he tried to help the photographer out by opting out of as many wedding pictures as he could, but apparently there weren’t a lot of opt-out options for groomsmen, and whenever Oikawa saw him backing out of a photo a lilting  _Tobio-chan_  pulled him back in.

He wouldn’t have minded ruining the pictures if it was just Oikawa—but Tobio didn’t want to ruin things for his new partner. They had to be married to Oikawa for the rest of their lives; at the very least they should have smiling faces in their wedding pictures, and that wasn’t something Tobio could provide. His absence from as many pictures as possible was the next best thing.

If only he could opt-out of speaking to guests, too. For some reason, every parent with a daughter Tobio’s age homed in on him, regaling him with stories about their darling offspring. Oikawa found it hilarious; Tobio’s miserable face seemed to perk him up each time his energy was starting to flag under the pressure.

At least they couldn’t force him to dance at the end of the night, after the two dances he was expected to participate in. He simply refused to get out of his chair, and eventually he was left alone at his table—until someone joined him there, groaning.

“What’s your problem?” Tobio asked, regretting the question a moment later.  _It’s better if you don’t talk to people_ , he reminded himself. Twenty years old, and he still hadn’t learned how to speak amicably to others. In his defense, the guy was kneeling in the chair, half-lying on the table. How drunk was he? Orange hair stood up at all angles and his top shirt buttons were open, an undone, turquoise bowtie still hanging from the collar—wedding colors.

“Sunburn,” the guy said, his voice a whine. “I put on the numbing stuff this morning but it totally stopped working a while ago. I’m Shouyou, by the way.”

“Tobio. You’re sunburned? I don’t see it.”

Instead of answering, Shouyou leaned over and drew back his shirt collar, revealing a very red neck. To Tobio’s surprise, he pulled the shirt back further—and showed Tobio his lobster-like back. Tobio winced in sympathy.

“How far down..?”

“ _All_  the way. I fell asleep on my stomach while I was lying naked in my back yard. Every moment is torture, basically. And people keep hugging me, so I can’t dance to distract myself.” 

His frankness surprised a laugh out of Tobio, and Shouyou looked at him with a smile, still in his prone bent-over-the-table posture, which made a lot more sense after seeing that burn. It was also a little distracting.

“Can’t your date put more of the numbing stuff on?”

“No date,” Shouyou said. “Where’s yours?”

“Also nonexistent.”

“Hmm? Is that why you frown so much?”

“It’d be worse if I smiled,” Tobio said, and demonstrated. Shouyou’s eyes went wide, then he laughed.

“Wow, that’s amazing. That’s not on purpose?”

Tobio shook his head ruefully.

Shouyou sighed, closing his eyes, returning to the pain. He looked ridiculous, slumped over the table groaning while the rest of the room danced, but he didn’t seem self-conscious at all.  _That_  was amazing.

“Did you bring the numbing stuff?” Tobio asked.

“The after-sun? Yeah, I put it behind reception. Why?”

“I could help, if you wanted.”

Shouyou sat up, eyes widening. “You mean that?”

“Do I look like I have something else to do?”

“ _Please_ ,” Shouyou said, grabbing Tobio’s wrist. Three minutes later they were in the nearest bathroom with the bottle of numbing gel in their possession. Shouyou led him into one of the stalls where they stood cramped together.

He started undressing immediately, and Tobio swallowed.

Was he supposed to mention it when he was attracted to random sunburned guys at weddings? Maybe that would have been a better policy—but Shouyou was already hanging his shirt over the junction between stalls, and his hands were at his belt.

“I’m really sorry for this,” he said. “I know it’s pretty weird…”

And the pants dropped, though Shouyou faced away over the toilet, so he couldn’t see Tobio’s blush matching his sunburn. Tobio squirted gel into his hand, and Shouyou laughed a little.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Tobio shrugged mentally and finally reached out, starting at Shouyou’s neck, moving slowly down to his shoulders and the backs of his arms. Moans accompanied the motions, which didn’t exactly make his job any easier.

“Thank you,” Shouyou kept saying, over and over, which—along with the moaning— _really_  didn’t help, especially as he started moving lower.

“You—m-maybe—stop making so much noise?” There were other people in the bathroom, coming and going. 

“But it feels so good,” Shouyou groaned, and Tobio heard the door again.  _Please stop_ , he begged Shouyou silently, and the plea went unanswered. “You can’t imagine how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Ohhh?”

The voice came from outside the stall, and Tobio’s heart froze in his chest.  _No_. Not him. Anyone but him. He was three sheets to the wind, drunk as a skunk, and even if he hadn’t been, he was  _Oikawa_.

“Is someone getting feisty at my wedding? Ah, lemme see, lemme see—”

Tobio flung his hand over the door, trying to hold it in place, but the lock on the stall door was one of those flimsy ones that hardly worked, and the gel made his hand slippery. The door swung wide, and Oikawa peered in.

Tobio would’ve sworn time stopped, right then: with Oikawa taking in his lotiony hands and Shouyou naked to the ankles, bent over the toilet.

 _Why am I not dead?_  Tobio thought longingly. Being dead sounded good. If he was dead, he wouldn’t have to watch Oikawa’s eyes narrow in amusement, his hand clutching at his stomach as the loudest laugh Tobio had ever heard began to erupt from him. Shouyou didn’t seem  _nearly_  embarrassed enough at their predicament.

“Tobio-chan!” Oikawa howled, wiping tears from his eyes. “You made a move! I’m so proud of you! This is what parenthood feels like!”

“Shut up!” Tobio yelled, managing to wrest the door from him. He turned the lock again, useless as it was. His cheeks flamed, and Oikawa’s laughter continued outside. He was fairly sure he’d fallen over, in fact.

Tobio ignored Shouyou’s inquiring glance and reached for the toilet paper, beginning to wipe his hands, his head turned away.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Shouyou asked. “You’re not done yet.”

There was another howl of laughter from Oikawa outside. “That’s right, Tobio-chan! Finish what you started!”

“You want me to keep going?” he asked, confused.  _Did you not hear the make a move thing? I’m about to rub my hands all over your ass._

“Yeah? Uh, why wouldn’t I?”

“Tobio-chan is worried you’re uncomfortable with him touching your butt, Chibi-chan!” Oikawa yelled. “He’s very self-conscious about his gayness!”

“You’re gay?” Shouyou asked, eyes wide. He straightened up a bit, and Tobio fought to keep his eyes pinned to his face.  _How did you not get that from context?_  Tobio thought, hopelessly embarrassed.

He gave a jerky nod.

“Oh, wow, that’s perfect. Any chance you’d… um… be interested? And are you staying at the hotel?”

There was a bang on the door, and a mumbled, “I want to see Tobio-chan’s face…” It sounded like Oikawa had literally killed himself laughing, his voice was so weak. Tobio was able to hold the door shut easily this time.

“Y-yes… to both.”

Shouyou grinned. “Okay, good. Now do the rest of me.”

Oikawa let out a groaning laugh, continuing to sound like he was dying. Meanwhile, Tobio just did as he was told.


	6. a good dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short drabble with sleepy kagehinas, rated G

He’s woken by a kick to the shin, forceful enough to make him hiss in a breath through his teeth. The breath fills his lungs, prepares to become a tirade against his restless bed companion—and then he catches a glimpse of Shouyou’s face by the light of the moon outside.

Shouyou’s still asleep, an arm flung up, bright hair even messier than normal.

The breath stops for just a moment, changes—becomes a slow exhale. Tobio tries to scowl, but it feels suspiciously like a smile. The kick came from Shouyou jerking closer in his sleep, abandoning his pillow for Tobio’s; it’s something he does on occasion, something he’s done for as long as they’ve shared beds. It’s something that leads to fingers poking in Tobio’s eyes and elbows in his chest and once even a knee to the crotch—he’d yelled, then—but Tobio can never quite get angry at sleeping Shouyou the way he can get angry at awake Shouyou. 

He lays his head back against the pillow slowly, the pounding in his shin already abating. Tomorrow, he’ll yell at Shouyou for eating breakfast too fast, or for whatever objectionable things he’ll undoubtedly say, but he won’t yell at him for this—for this sleeping habit that Tobio can’t quite bring himself to resent. 

He lets himself get one last glimpse of Shouyou’s sleeping face in moonlight and shadow before closing his eyes, moving just a little to get comfortable. Then he sticks one foot out and—ever-so-carefully—prods it against Shouyou’s shin in a pretend-kick.

He won’t yell, but fair’s fair: a kick for a kick. Shouyou slumbers on, oblivious to justice being dealt.

Tobio lets out a long breath and allows his dreams to catch up to him.


	7. sports festival at karasuno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canonverse, rated G

Shouyou breathed hard, his nose and mouth filling with the loamy scent of soil. The grass beneath him was bumpy, but it felt like nature’s finest mattress as he lay on it, feeling the sweat begin to dry on his body, turning his skin into one big itch. Next to him Kageyama sounded just as out of breath as he was, though he’d collapsed onto his back instead of his front.

Shouyou turned his head to look at him, found him looking back. Kageyama’s white team headband was askew, half on and half off. He must have dislodged it wiping his forehead.

“I won,” Shouyou said. 

“You had a head start,” Kageyama said, and it was true; the red team had worked up an advantage during the relay, one Shouyou resented just a little. He’d use any means possible to win from Kageyama, but he wanted to create his own opportunities, not use opportunities others had created for him. 

“I thought about waiting,” he said, mumbling it into the soil. Still, he had his team to think about, not just his pride. Kageyama’s team had decimated his during the soccer match earlier, when Kageyama had replaced the white team goalie. It had been a move of necessity for the white team; Kageyama kept getting his hands on the ball, though he swore it wasn’t on purpose. As goalie, that wasn’t a bad trait, and the soccer team had tried to recruit him after.

Shouyou hadn’t managed to get one ball past him, even though he’d had about five opportunities. He didn’t even  _like_  soccer but that made him determined to get better at it. When Kageyama found him pouting after the match, he’d told him he should have been goalie as well, because it was “the easiest position for someone like him”. Shouyou thought, privately, that that would have defeated the purpose; he and Kageyama would be on opposite sides of the field, not really competing. He didn’t mention that, though.

“Waiting would have been stupid,” Kageyama said, bringing Shouyou back to the present. “Relays are a team thing so it’s fine.”

“I hope they do one-on-one races next year,” Shouyou said, and Kageyama nodded. He pushed himself into a sitting position, grass sticking to the back of his T-shirt. From this angle he looked long-limbed and very strong, even if the wonky headband looked silly. Shouyou rolled onto his back and sat up, too.

“The girls’ bread-eating contest is starting soon,” Kageyama said, looking towards the track field where students milled about, some purposefully and some at leisure. The buzz from the relay was already over. “Let’s go watch Yachi.”

He stood up. Shouyou wanted to do the same, but his legs were useless with fatigue. He needed another minute or two, but he didn’t want to let–

Kageyama stuck a hand down at him, and after a moment’s hesitation Shouyou took it, letting Kageyama lift him to his feet. It made him feel like he’d lost somehow, even though Kageyama dropped his hand quickly and looked away, not gloating about Shouyou’s need for assistance at all. In an effort to even the score, Shouyou caught him before he could move back to the field and made him wait while he fixed the wonky headband. Kageyama kept his chin tucked until Shouyou was finished.

“Done?” Kageyama mumbled at last, and Shouyou nodded and stepped away. They walked back to the field side by side, and Shouyou cast frequent glances at his companion. There was a light feeling in his chest, and he accepted that maybe he was a little bit in love with Kageyama Tobio. That was okay, though; he’d just lie if anyone asked.

He wouldn’t lose to Kageyama.


	8. indirect kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canonverse, rated G

“He took it? Just like that?”

“Yes! I just put my bottle down and then he drank from it like it was his!”

There was a chorus of high-pitched noises, and then: “That’s an indirect kiss!”

Tobio blinked, suddenly tuned in to the background noise. He kept his head pillowed in his arms, though, slumped over his desk as he eavesdropped. From what he could gather, a boy had drunk from the same bottle as one of the girls in his class, and somehow that was the same as a kiss. One of the girls went on to explain how significant this occurrence was–that it meant someone liked you, or at least was open to liking you.

By that logic, he’d kissed Hinata hundreds of times. Well–he’d kissed about half the team, probably, at some point, but that idea didn’t carry the same weight as his repeatedly kissing Hinata.

He felt a flicker of nerves in the pit of his stomach.

 _You’re being stupid_ , he told himself soundly.  _Hinata’s never brought it up, so he doesn’t know about this stuff either._

Still, he imagined the press of his water bottle’s stem against his tongue, imagined Hinata wrapping his mouth around that same stem after. It was just practical to share bottles if one of them ran out of water or forgot theirs–but Tobio’s face was warm against his folded arms, and his insides were squirming.

It didn’t mean anything, maybe, but Tobio found himself hoping that Hinata would forget his water bottle sometime this week–and there was a part of him that hoped Hinata had known about indirect kisses all along.


	9. Kageyama does an impression

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rated G

“You don’t have to follow me!” Shouyou said, annoyed. “I’m just going to the bathroom.”

Kageyama glared in response.

“I mean it! I’m not five!”

Shouyou took a few more steps and was indignant to find Kageyama still following him. When he glared, Kageyama sighed. He put his hands up to his hair, lifting it in an imitation of Shouyou’s own.

“I’m Hinata Shouyou and I’m cute and small and about to probably meet a _drug lord_  in the bathrooms because that’s what I do and I’m too stubborn to let someone come with me to make sure I don’t get murdered!” Kageyama said in a high voice. “Toss to me!”

Shouyou stared.

“That was you,” Kageyama said, as if  _I’m Hinata Shouyou_  wasn’t clue enough.

The impression wasn’t what had surprised Shouyou, though. His eyebrows drew together. “ _Cute and small_?” he asked.

This time it was Kageyama’s turn to stare, and color crept into his cheeks. “I… yeah. Objectively.”

His voice sounded strained, and Shouyou let it go. He started walking again, ignoring Kageyama following him; he didn’t  _really_  want to run the risk of being murdered right before the spring high, after all, and he knew his track record with bathrooms at tournaments was bad. 

His shoulders were high as he walked, though; he wondered whether  _cute_  was a compliment, coming from someone like Kageyama.


	10. You need to calm down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get hot and heavy after practice -- established relationship, rated M

_You need to calm down._

Tobio says it all the time. When Shouyou runs around new places—gymnasiums, away camps, other schools—when he tries to help cook, when he gets overexcited during a match.

Tobio isn’t saying it now.

The door to the Kageyama residence bangs closed behind them, and already Shouyou is pulling at his tall boyfriend, trying to get closer. There’s a thud of Tobio’s bag dropping to the floor, and then Shouyou’s being pushed into the door. He feels Tobio’s hands against his sides, sliding under his shirt. The skin-to-skin contact makes his breath hiss through his teeth. It feels like heaven after keeping his hands to himself for the short walk from school to Tobio’s house.

He feels himself being lifted, feels Tobio’s hips pin him to the door, and then his mouth is being forced open. He meets Tobio halfway, pulling at his jersey, teeth clashing as they kiss with an urgency that only ever comes from that perfect connection on the court. He remembers the sting of his hand as he spiked the ball, over and over, every sense in his body focused on getting the next point. He remembers Tobio’s perfect tosses, all at just the right height so that hitting them felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The echo of that perfect connection thrums through him, a drumbeat inside of his veins urging  _faster, faster._

Shouyou feels Tobio’s hands and mouth hot on him, unbearably hot, and he has to gasp for air between kisses—but his hands are fisted in Tobio’s jersey and all he can think about is getting closer. Tobio’s parents won’t be home for hours; he wants to spend all the hours between now and then as close as possible to his setter,  _his_  setter, the person who sends the best tosses, the person who—

Tobio bends to nip at Shouyou’s neck, a tiny pulse of pain followed by pleasure as the spot is licked, sucked. Shouyou hears a keening noise and realizes it’s him.

“Shouyou.”

The sound of Tobio’s voice doesn’t help the situation, not at all. Shouyou’s body is all fire and energy, and he remembers Tsukishima’s terrible chemistry explanations from before he and Tobio ditched him for Yachi:

 _Every atom is in perpetual motion_ , he’d said, as if Shouyou knew what words like  _perpetual_  meant.  _How fast they move determines what phase they’re in. In gases they ping everywhere—that’s like stray volleyballs during spiking practice, for you idiots—but in solids they stay in place vibrating. Oi, are you listening?_

Shouyou feels like his body is humming something fierce–like all those atoms he’s supposedly made up of are going to vibrate apart and turn into a mist. He’ll just explode and not exist anymore, and right now that doesn’t seem like such a bad thing if Tobio is here with him.

“Oi, dumbass.” It should sound casual, like normal, but it doesn’t; Tobio’s voice is too breathy.

“Mm?”

“You went too quiet.”

“Touch me more.”

Tobio pulls back just enough for Shouyou to see his flushed face, and the look he gives Shouyou is somewhere between challenge and exasperation. His eyes seem very dark.

Shouyou’s legs feel weak; he’s glad Tobio is pinning him.

Still, he can’t be passive about this for long. Soon he’s the one pushing off Tobio’s jersey and pulling at the underside of his shirt, lifting it, trying to touch as much of Tobio’s smooth stomach and chest as he can. Tobio’s nipples are hard where he rubs his palms over them.

Tobio makes a choking noise into Shouyou’s mouth.

“Off,” Shouyou pulls back enough to whisper. Tobio raises his arms, and Shouyou pulls off the shirt. He leans in to kiss the salty skin of Tobio’s chest.

“Nh.” The sound is accompanied by a drop in altitude; Tobio seems to be sinking, and that means Shouyou is sinking too. They slide down the door, ending up on the floor of the entryway, Shouyou in Tobio’s lap.

Shouyou rocks his hips just a little to release the tension coiled tight in his abdomen. It barely helps; his lungs feel tight with a need for more than just oxygen. The hands under his shirts clutch tighter, hard enough to bruise, and Shouyou has trouble not rocking his hips again. He loves being touched like this—by the talented hands that send him tosses. 

“You were amazing today,” Tobio says, and there’s no hint of false praise in his voice; he means every word. Shouyou knows he was amazing—but it’s Tobio who drew it out of him.

They draw it out of each other.

“I want—” Shouyou gasps, and he lets his hand drop between them to where they’re pressed together, where he can feel Tobio hard against him.

“M-me too.”

They move back just enough to slide clothes out of the way, never quite losing contact. Shouyou lets his hand curl around Tobio’s erection and wants to make him feel good, better than he’s ever felt, but he’s too impatient, and when he feels Tobio’s hand against  _him_  there’s no way to be as coordinated as he needs to be. It’s hard even to think.

The world recedes to panted breaths and Tobio—his hands, his mouth, his smell. Shouyou wants to do this properly, to take his time and enjoy every inch of Tobio’s body—to worship it, even if he’d never admit to Tobio that that was what he was doing—but the urgency is too much. All he can do is endure Tobio’s bruising kisses, press himself against him, gasp his name as release comes close.

 _You need to calm down_ , Tobio tells Shouyou all the time, whenever he gets overexcited; always  _you need to calm down_. But he isn’t saying it now–his breath is caught in iterations of Shouyou’s name and praise, murmurings of how well he did. He’s been dragged into Shouyou’s pace, or maybe Shouyou has been dragged into his, and the drumbeat echo in Shouyou’s veins beats harder than ever.

He doesn’t plan on calming down anytime soon—or ever. He doesn’t plan to ever be  _calm_  about Kageyama Tobio or his perfect tosses.

It’s not in his nature.


	11. touchstarved!Kageyama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thank the stars for the anon who gave me this prompt every day. (Such a joy to write!) A Kageyama who wants to be touched but doesn't know how to ask for it, rated T. (compliant with any asexual Kageyama headcanons, for those who might be excited for that!)

It’s not that he’s lonely; it’s not. His  _body_  is lonely.

It feels like a dirty secret, wanting to be touched. He knows no one expects it of him because of the way strangers apologize when they bump into him, the way his mother tries not to smother him, the easy way his teammates express their approval; if his teammates knew how much he craved contact those touches wouldn’t be so easy for them. He’s grateful for the way Karasuno has brought touch back into his life, all the overbearing affection from the senpais, and even—well—

There’s Hinata. That feels like a statement in and of itself:  _there’s Hinata_. He’d tackle Tobio as soon as look at him, and they’re always fighting, which sort of necessitates proximity. Fighting isn’t the same as really being touched with intent, but it’s—nice, almost. No, it  _is_  nice, but Tobio doesn’t like admitting it.

It feels like a dirtier secret than wanting to be touched does.

He knows what Hinata’s palms feel like, and his hair, and even what it feels like to have Hinata’s fist land solidly in his face. It’s not really much to go on, and he’d die before admitting he likes their wrestling despite all the injuries. And anyway, he likes the times when they sit next to each other and their knees touch more.

That’s another thing he’d die before admitting to, though.

When others touch, he doesn’t look. He doesn’t watch when he sees classmates touch hands with intent. He doesn’t watch Nishinoya and Tanaka lifting and prodding and slinging arms around each other as if they’re the logical extensions of each other’s bodies. They’re so easy with it, and over time Tobio decides that the secret to being touched is not wanting it too much.

So he ignores it when he and Hinata get closer, become something approximating friends as well as rivals. Hinata is always tugging at his shirt, or nudging him, or picking stuff out of his hair after they fight which is still often. It makes his stomach feel all pulled tight, and there’s the temptation to crush Hinata in his arms and not let go, but that would be weird.

It would definitely be weird, so why does his stupid body want it so much? He’s glad of all the senses that allow him to excel on the court—his spacial awareness, the way he can almost  _feel_  what’s happening around him during matches—but the sense that cries out for touch he could do without. 

“Hey, Kageyama,” Hinata says one day, when they’re sitting in a park together on the weekend, their clothes wet with sweat from the volleyball drills they’ve been doing. “Why do you always flinch when people touch you?”

“I flinch?”

Hinata nods.

Tobio shrugs. He doesn’t know, because he didn’t know he did it until now.

Hinata reaches out and touches his knee—bare because he’s wearing shorts. Tobio jumps.

“See?” Hinata says.

“That was just unexpected.”

Hinata crawls closer, sits with his legs folded under him next to Tobio. “Okay, then. I’m gonna touch your arm now.”

Tobio ducks his head, waits for Hinata to make good on his threat. Hinata’s palm is warm as he places it on Tobio’s forearm, calluses scratchy, and Tobio keeps his breathing even, keeps looking down. 

Hinata draws his hand back. “You don’t like to be touched, do you?”

This time, Tobio’s not afraid to make eye contact; he stares. “That’s not it at all! You’re being weird.”

 _I like it_ , he wants to say, but the secret is to not want it.

“Okay, then,” Hinata says. “Touch me.”

Tobio squints at him, wondering what universe he comes from; one where boys sit in a public park saying things like  _touch me_? “You’re being weird,” he says again, but complies. He grabs Hinata’s hand, feeling very nervous. “See?”

Hinata examines his face, and finally he inclines his head. “You really don’t hate it?”

“No,” Tobio says.

Hinata grins. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Tobio expects the strange interlude in the park to be a weird, one-off occurrence—just one of the things that comes with being sort-of friends with Hinata—but it marks a change. Hinata touches him more, beyond what already fits into Tobio’s normal, and one time after a match Hinata jumps _onto_  him—like he’s the kind of person people do that to, like it’s nothing.

Tobio is stunned and tries not to show it. When Hinata keeps bumping into him on purpose on the way back to the bus after the match, Tobio turns his smile away so no one will see.

“Kageyama isn’t hitting him,” he hears Tanaka say in hushed tones, and Tobio considers pushing Hinata away—but he doesn’t want to.

That night, after he goes over the events of the match in his head, he lies in bed remembering what it felt like to have Hinata wrap his arms and legs around him and hold tight—what it felt like to feel Hinata’s heart hammer against him. For a while the memory is sweet, but it turns to longing eventually, and the bed is so empty around him.

 

* * *

 

“The thing is,” Hinata is saying, and his face is screwed up like it costs him a lot of effort to say it, “I like you.”

Tobio waits, wondering what this is about. Hinata had pulled him aside on their way back from practice, saying he wanted to talk.  _He likes me?_ Tobio thinks, wondering if Hinata means on the court or like a friend or like a rival or what.

“Like in a lovey-dovey way,” Hinata says, when Tobio doesn’t answer.

Tobio’s breath leaves him in a rush. “Like kissing?”

Hinata glances up at him. “I guess. Maybe. If we both wanted to.”

Disbelief courses through Tobio. He’s not sure he wants to kiss—he’s not sure how kisses work—but he wants to hold.  _Badly_.

“You don’t have to respond,” Hinata says, and now his cheeks are flushing. “I just thought I’d put it out there.”

He begins to walk away, and Tobio catches his arm. “Wait—if we…”

Tobio takes a breath, trying to ignore the hammering of his heart as Hinata turns to look at him. “If we dated,” Tobio says. “I could touch you all the time?”

Color floods Hinata’s face. “I… suppose?” he chokes out.

Tobio considers it for a moment more, then nods. “Okay. Let’s date.”

Hinata stares. “What? You mean that?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Hinata says, but he’s frowning. “But I’m not sure you understand what it means.”

“It means we get to be together a lot, doesn’t it? I want that.”

Hinata ducks his head, and Tobio lets his hand slide down from Hinata’s forearm where he was holding him back, lets it drop over Hinata’s wrist to his hand. Hinata glances up at him as if for permission and interlocks their fingers.

Tobio stares down at their hands, caught up in the press of Hinata’s palm against his, Hinata’s fingers between his own. His chest feels dangerously light.

“Is this okay,” Hinata mumbles, not even turning it into a question. Tobio nods a few times fast.

They walk to Tobio’s house together like that, Hinata insisting that walking people home is a part of dating. Hinata’s bicycle rattles next to them, the center of the handlebars gripped tight in Hinata’s other hand. Tobio thinks that he’d better pump up the flat tire on his own rarely-used bicycle, then, if he’s going to be expected to drop Hinata off home tomorrow, across the mountain.

“You’re weird, you know,” Hinata says, before they say goodbye.

“So are you,” Tobio says, where a year ago he might have yelled and denied it. Hinata makes being weird seem not so bad.

Hinata laughs, and he draws his hand back in preparation for leaving—but before he leaves he stands on his tiptoes to brush a kiss against Tobio’s cheek. A moment later he jumps on his bicycle.

“Bye, then!” he yells, waving, and leaves Tobio staring after him with his heart hammering and his blood roaring in his ears. For just a moment, they’d been so close—Hinata’s body stretching up against his to plant the kiss—and then after the soft scrape of slightly chapped lips he was gone.

Tobio spends the rest of the day in a daze, but it’s a happy one.

 

* * *

 

It’s Sunday. Sunday used to be Tobio’s least favorite day of the week because there was rarely volleyball practice and there was always Monday’s homework to be done, but it’s become one of his favorites because it’s the day he goes over to Hinata’s house, or Hinata comes to his, and they do homework together.

Doing homework together can mean a lot of things, Tobio finds out, as they spend their time looking at volleyball videos or playing with Natsu or practicing in nearby parks or doing nothing in particular.

Today they’re doing the last one, in Tobio’s bedroom with the door closed. Tobio had trapped Hinata in his arms earlier, held his body flush against his, and now Tobio’s arms have loosened but Hinata’s still there, his head pillowed on Tobio’s chest as his hand fiddles with the bottom of Tobio’s shirt. Each time Hinata’s fingers graze the bare skin of Tobio’s abdomen, Tobio has to gasp a breath, keep calm, not be weird about it.

Hinata sits up a little, putting his weight on his elbow. “You’re so sensitive,” he says, and watches Tobio’s face as the hand that was fiddling with the bottom of his shirt flattens out against Tobio’s abs—under the T-shirt. Tobio tries to breathe normally, meets Hinata’s eyes.

“So are you,” he says because it’s true. When he touches Hinata the way Hinata’s touching him right now, Hinata goes red and starts to squirm and complains about being ticklish. 

“It’s different,” Hinata says.

It probably is; Tobio doesn’t care. He catches the hand and moves it so he can sit up, grab Hinata and draw him in. Hinata squawks as Tobio pulls him into his lap and wraps around him, puts his face in the soft curve of Hinata’s neck where it’s warm and Hinata’s scent is strongest.

“Kageyama!”

“Mm?”

But Hinata doesn’t follow up with anything. Instead, he starts to card his fingers through Tobio’s hair, tucks his head in against Tobio’s. Tobio can feel the pulse in Hinata’s neck and how fast it is; his arms feel full, his body humming with the pleasure of holding and being held. Hinata is so small but so solid, and always moving—sometimes to press kisses and sometimes to caress and sometimes to shove and Tobio hardly cares which of those it is.

The air around him used to feel so empty, but with Hinata pressed close it feels full, full, full—and so does Tobio.

It’s a new feeling, but he thinks he could get used to it.


	12. Professionals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kagehina + Iwaoi as pros! Having to deal with each other. Rated G!

“I’m not gonna,” Oikawa says, wrinkling his nose. Hajime glances over at Kageyama’s team, where Kageyama stands with the orange-haired guy some part of Hajime is always going to think of as  _that short number 10_.

“You have to,” Hajime tells him. “You’re an adult now, and we’re going to be seeing more of them.”

Oikawa narrows his eyes.

Hajime inspects Oikawa’s forehead in mock concern, grabbing his chin and turning his face this way and that. “Are those new frown lines? Do you think the magazines will airbrush them out?”

“So rude!” Oikawa says, pulling out his phone to examine his face in the front-facing camera. He frowns at his reflection, and Hajime knows what he sees: a man in his early twenties, probably at peak handsomeness and likely to stay there for a decade or two. He still features front and center in all their shoots because—as Oikawa keeps reminding everyone—the camera loves him.

Sometimes Hajime loves him too—like the times when he’s not being an overgrown twelve year-old. Unfortunately, this is not one of those times.

 

* * *

 

“Kageyama,” Shouyou says. “Come on.”

“Ignoring each other is fine!” Kageyama insists. “See, I’m not fighting with him am I?”

“Yeah, but once the match starts you will be.”

“Are you forgetting we’re not regulars?”

Shouyou sighs. The coach is going to put Kageyama in for sure. Kageyama’s been curiously reluctant, though, since Shouyou  _isn’t_  one of the regulars and isn’t likely to become one any time soon. It’s a weight between them, and Shouyou doesn’t like it; he needs to impress the coach more.

But he doesn’t want Kageyama to hang  _back_  for him. That would be insulting, and Shouyou would hate it.

“Okay fine,” Shouyou says. “I’m going to go over there.”

Kageyama reaches out to grab him, but Shouyou has had six years to get good at evading Kageyama’s grabs, and the only time he’s caught these days is when he wants to be.

He jogs over to the opposing team, ignoring his new team’s eyes watching him. It’s not uncommon for players to have friends in other teams in the league.

“Grand King!” he calls. Oikawa is looking at his phone, but he drops it into the pocket of his tracksuit bottoms when he sees Shouyou approach.

“Chibi-chan,” Oikawa says. Shouyou manages not to tell him that he grew two centimeters since they faced off in high school, but only just.

“Hinata Shouyou,” he says, bowing at Oikawa and Iwaizumi in greeting, and when he straightens he sees Oikawa’s eyebrow rise—and then he feels someone hit him squarely on the back.

“Don’t bow to him, stupid,” Kageyama says. He glares balefully up at Oikawa.

“Tobio-chan, how rude.” Oikawa grins. “I still have a picture of you bowing—”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says warningly, and Oikawa stops. He sighs.

“Anyway,” Kageyama says. “We’re going back over there.”

He grabs Shouyou by the collar of his uniform and tries to drag him away, but Shouyou squirms out of his grip. 

“No we’re not,” Shouyou says. “I don’t want to be embarrassed because you got into a tug-of-war over a volleyball again.”

Oikawa snorts. “Don’t worry, Chibi-chan. I’m a cool adult now, you know. I won’t get into tug-of-wars.”

Shouyou turns to look at Oikawa, and he knows the face he’s making because of Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s responses to it; Oikawa recoils, and Iwaizumi starts to laugh. He knows it’s the face that says he doesn’t believe whoever he’s speaking to.

Oikawa prods Iwaizumi, pouting. “Stop laughing.”

“So prove it,” Iwaizumi says. “Prove you’re a cool adult. No hard feelings?”

“A little competition is good, you know,” Oikawa says, but he sounds like he’s prepared to lose the argument.

“A little is good,” Iwaizumi agrees.

Oikawa sighs. “Fine. Tobio-chan, you’re a good player, and I admire certain aspects of your play and no aspects of your—” Iwaizumi jabs him in the side “—I, uh, that’s it. That’s all.”

Kageyama frowns. He glances at Shouyou, and his hands clench at his sides. His head bends, but his words are clearly addressed to Oikawa despite looking at the floor.

“Thank you for your advice in high school. It was helpful.”

“Of course it was, it was my adv—” Another jab from Iwaizumi makes Oikawa’s mouth clack closed. Oikawa rubs his side. “Go away, you two, before Iwa-chan turns my side into one big bruise.”

Shouyou’s okay with leaving now; Kageyama’s shoulders have loosened just a fraction, and the tension in the air is gone—or at least reduced to normal pre-match competitiveness.

“Nice to see you again,” Shouyou says, grinning, and Iwaizumi echoes the sentiment easily, looking at Oikawa just a little differently than he had in the beginning. 

This time Shouyou lets Kageyama drag him off when he grabs him.

“Feel better?” Shouyou asks when they’re out of earshot.

“Only because I never had a chance to thank him before,” Kageyama says. Shouyou thinks it’s more than that—but he’s content to let it be.

“Good,” he says.

 

* * *

 

“Are you happy now, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks as they move to the changing rooms before the match.

“Extremely happy,” Hajime says.

Oikawa peers at him. “Really?”

“I don’t like you having extra stress in your life,” Hajime says, shrugging. “It’s easier to just get along with people, you know.”

“You’re joking. You shout at people who litter. You follow them down the street and make them take their trash back.”

“That’s different. Those are punks who need to learn manners. Kageyama’s all right.”

Oikawa scoffs, but he sighs a moment later. “Fine, fine. Kageyama’s all right.”

Hajime waits.

“For a single-celled—”

Hajime folds his arms, and Oikawa rolls his eyes up to the heavens.

“Kageyama’s all right,” he says, and leaves it there, then: “I hope they don’t let him and Chibi-chan play in the match against us. I can say they’re exhausting, right? You won’t jab me?”

Finally Hajime smiles. Admitting that an opponent is a pain is no insult to that opponent. “They’re a pain,” he agrees.

“And we’ll crush them,” Oikawa says, his eyes pleading Hajime to be with him on this.

“In a friendly manner,” Hajime says.

Oikawa grins. “Of course.”


	13. Massage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hinata gives Kageyama a massage, rated T

Tobio shrugged his shoulder, pressing into his trapezius muscle as he moved it this way and that, trying to get the tension out of it. With finals coming up he’d been spending less time running and more time studying, which never sat well with any part of him. Even after the balm of practice his back and shoulders felt tight.

“You should have Hinata look at that,” Tanaka said, eyeing his motions. “He’s really good at massages.”

Tobio’s brows rose, both at the content of the comment and at Tanaka knowing something like that. “How do you…?”

“He offered when my back hurt last month.” Tanaka looked at the ceiling of the gym, a fond smile on his lips. “Such a good kouhai.”

Tobio wondered how much ice cream Tanaka had treated Hinata to after; his guess was a lot.

Tanaka spotted Hinata on his way out of the gym and yelled at him to come over. “Kageyama’s shoulder is hurting,” Tanaka said. “Think you could help?”

Hinata’s eyes found Tobio’s, and Tobio nearly recoiled. “I didn’t ask for it!” Tobio said quickly. Hinata’s flat stare was intimidating.

Apparently Tanaka thought the same. “Hey, c’mon, Hinata! We’re a team!”

“Yeah? Tell him!” Hinata glared.

“I’m… sorry I was grumpy,” Tobio said.  _But you were distracted and kept talking to Yamaguchi so really it wasn’t my fault_.

“You don’t  _sound_  sorry.”

Tanaka held up his hands. “Hey, hey—”

"I’m not sorry! You got the timing wrong three times in a row! What’s the point of doing spiking drills if you’re just going to whine about learning to float serve?” Tobio was glaring now, but he didn’t want the stupid massage anyway. Hinata looked just a tiny bit guilty.

” _Kageyama_ ,” Tanaka said through gritted teeth.

Tobio glanced at Tanaka and took a breath. “I’m sorry.” He looked away. “Anyway, I’m fine. Hinata would probably dislocate my shoulder if he tried to help.”

“Would  _not_!”

"Sort it out!” Tanaka shouted, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he was restraining himself from violence. He whirled. “I’m leaving.”

Hinata watched him go. “You made Tanaka-san angry.”

” _We_  made Tanaka-san angry.”

Hinata’s lips pursed.

“Let’s go,” Tobio said, the fight gone from him, but Hinata pulled him back, ushered him to sit on the parquet floor.

“I don’t  _really_ want you to be in pain,” he mumbled. “Not for long, anyway.”

"Thanks.”

“And this isn’t the best place, and it’s not going to be my best ever massage or anything so don’t—”

“Just do it if you’re going to do it!” Somehow, Hinata’s babbling was making Tobio nervous. He wasn’t used to having Hinata touch him with any sort of intent, and the thought of being massaged made his stomach feel tight with tension.

Plus, massages were painful, weren’t they?

Or they weren’t.

Hinata’s hands moved up and down his back, warming his skin through his shirt. There was no pressure, and Tobio knew this wasn’t going to do anything for the knots in his shoulders. What had Tanaka meant by suggesting this? Unless he felt the same curious weightlessness Tobio felt with Hinata’s hands on him—

“Ah!” Hinata’s thumbs had started to make little circles along his spine.

Hinata snorted. “I’m barely getting started.”

Tobio gritted his teeth against making more sounds as Hinata knelt behind him, working the knots out of his shoulders without making him cry out in pain. It felt warm—pleasant.

It made Tobio feel shy.

He looked down at his legs folded under him, trying not to think of Hinata’s hands—trying to disconnect the sensation from who was causing it.

It wasn’t working.

Hinata pressed and circled and prodded and Tobio’s heart rate kept climbing, even as Hinata’s hands slowed. In fact, the slower Hinata moved the more aware of him Tobio became, and it was torturous. Tanaka should never have suggested this. 

He barely even noticed his back and shoulders loosening up under the waves of pleasure and embarrassment.

“How do you even know how to do this?” he asked, sounding resentful.

“My mother took a course and taught me.”

_And you sat still for long enough for her to teach you?_

“I know I’m not the best, but—”

“No, you’re really good at it.” Tobio glared at the ground. “It’s weird.”

“It’s not weird for me to be good at stuff,” Hinata grumbled. 

 _Yes it is_ , Tobio wanted to say, but he held it in. 

He was quiet as the pressure from Hinata’s hands eased, slowly ending the massage. Tobio wanted to ask him to continue. His body felt flushed with warmth, though his right leg was asleep from how he’d been sitting. He stumbled a little when he got up, and he was slow to turn and face Hinata, not sure how to school his expression.

Hinata peered up at him, and there was color on his cheeks too.

“Thanks,” Tobio said.

Hinata’s eyes widened. “Thanks?”

“I feel better.”

Hinata’s face crumpled into something between disgust and confusion. “It’s weird when you’re nice.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

They stood opposite each other, faces flushed, hands hanging uselessly at their sides.

“Anyway,” Tobio said. He looked down at Hinata’s hands and felt a shiver go through him. He didn’t want to think of those hands ever again, beyond aiming spikes at them. Right? He definitely didn’t want to think of how good they could make him feel. “Like I said. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hinata said in a tone that pleaded  _please don’t mention it ever again_.

Tobio didn’t  _want_  to mention it again; who did Hinata think he was? He shrugged with new ease, his shoulders loose. “Let’s go, dumbass. We’ll both be late for dinner if we don’t hurry.”

He pretended not to hear the sigh of relief Hinata let out as they exited the gym. He pretended there was no new awareness in him, that he couldn’t feel exactly where Hinata was in relation to him. He thought it might be better if he avoided Hinata for a while—physically, at least, if he couldn’t get away from him in his thoughts.

Massages were terrifying, he decided, even when they didn’t hurt.


	14. Dance practice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama helps Hinata practice ballroom dancing for a relative's wedding. (Hinata leads.) Rated T! (or G, I have such trouble distinguishing between the two)

“You should have asked Noya-san if you wanted to lead so bad!”

Shouyou glared. “The girls at the party are going to be taller than me too! They all wear heels. This is good practice, and anyway, I don’t want to bother Noya-san.”

“But bothering me is fine?”

Kageyama’s hand clenched around Shouyou’s—unconsciously, Shouyou thought. If they weren’t holding onto each other already Shouyou was sure Kageyama would be grabbing his hair.

“You said you’d help,” Shouyou said, although in Kageyama’s defense he hadn’t known what he was agreeing to. He’d probably expected to throw some extra tosses after practice.

Kageyama’s nose wrinkled. “I know.”

Shouyou sighed, stood up straight, tried to shrug off the annoyance of trying to be civil to Kageyama. It  _was_  nice of Kageyama to help, and Kageyama was nicer these days anyway. When they’d started out at Karasuno he’d been all jagged edges; now, Shouyou sometimes felt like Kageyama was waiting for something—for Shouyou to say the right thing, or do some particular thing. It made Shouyou feel just a little nervous—or responsible. He wasn’t sure for what.

“Okay,” he said, looking down at their feet. He’d been told not to do that, but if he looked at Kageyama’s face he’d just feel embarrassed at the non-violent proximity. “Let’s try again. One-two-three, one-two-three—”

Kageyama picked up the steps quickly for all his complaining. He was naturally good at physical things—not like Shouyou who’d messed up constantly during his dancing lessons. Whenever Shouyou paused their dancing to play a video and remember exactly how the steps went, Kageyama watched over his shoulder and got a little better.

Shouyou felt like he was getting worse. 

“What’s wrong?” Kageyama asked, when Shouyou floundered trying to lead him into a turn. Kageyama didn’t move at all elegantly, but somehow the low-angled light from the sun had shone on his face for a moment as he stepped under Shouyou’s arm and he’d looked…  _handsome_. Like really handsome. Despite his dumb expression.

The light was still doing it now, making Kageyama’s eyes look like they were a million different colors.

 _This is Kageyama_ , Shouyou reminded himself, but instead of his usual summary dismissal of Kageyama and everything Kageyama stood for—save volleyball—he found himself thinking of the fact that Kageyama was here after practice helping him simply because he’d asked. Kageyama wasn’t even complaining all that much, given the circumstances.

Shouyou pursed his lips. “Nothing. Can we practice that again?”

He ignored the nerves in his stomach as they went through the motions again. They managed the steps right this time, and when they put them all together the movements were smooth, almost, save the awkwardness of their differing heights and their mutual lack of grace. They did them again, and again, and Shouyou got less nervous in one way and more nervous in others.

“What?” Kageyama asked. “Am I doing it wrong?”

“No,” Shouyou said. They were still moving, and Shouyou was looking at Kageyama’s chest instead of his feet—progress.

“You don’t seem to be doing it wrong either,” Kageyama said, with the hint of a question in his voice. It made Shouyou look up, and the uncertainty in Kageyama’s expression caused Shouyou’s stomach to squirm.

What was wrong with him today? Was it the dancing? His hand holding Kageyama’s was sweaty, not to mention the hand on Kageyama’s hip. He’d probably soaked a wet patch through to the skin, and Shouyou couldn’t think of anything less romantic than that.

Wait. Why was he thinking of romantic things at all? Just because they were dancing and the sky was starting to turn bright orange with the sunset and Kageyama was just a little different today—that didn’t make this anything; their shoes squeaked unromantically against the parquet floor of the gym, Kageyama was much too tall for him, and they both looked ridiculous, probably.

Except Shouyou didn’t feel ridiculous. What he did feel was the warmth of Kageyama’s hand on his shoulder, and the weight of the other he was holding. 

When he glanced up at Kageyama’s face, he forgot the steps. Kageyama’s brows were drawn together in either anger or concern, his mouth pursed.

“Sorry,” Shouyou said, looking down again. His breathing was fast, and he let the hand holding Kageyama’s drop. He wondered if he imagined the twitch of Kageyama’s fingers, as if he’d almost tried to hold on to Shouyou.

“You’ll do fine,” Kageyama said, which was rare. Well—maybe not. Kageyama was supportive where it counted, usually, even if he made up for it the rest of the time.

Shouyou wrinkled his nose. “I wish I was taller, at least. Everyone’s going to look at me and wish there was someone else to dance with.”

Kageyama blinked at him.

“What?”

“That’s the first time you haven’t said  _but I can jump_ after a statement like that.”

Shouyou laughed. “Well, I can’t jump. It’s not that kind of dancing.”

“Then you should do the kind of dancing where you can jump.”

Shouyou wondered what kind of dancing that was. He looked at the windows; the bright orange was fading.

“We should go,” he said. “I’ve kept you way too long.”

“I don’t mind.”

Shouyou’s head shot up to stare at Kageyama, and Kageyama looked like he seriously regretted his words. His hand had come up to his mouth in what looked like disbelief.

He straightened, then looked down at Shouyou. “Well?” he said.

“Well what?” Shouyou asked.

“You’re staring.”

“You  _don’t mind_?”

Kageyama was the one to look away this time. “Yeah. Maybe I don’t.”

Something in Shouyou’s chest felt tight. This was it: the something there inside Kageyama, the part of Kageyama that was waiting for something from Shouyou. An idea was starting to form in Shouyou’s brain; he thought he might know what Kageyama was waiting for, though he wasn’t ready to address it directly.

“Good,” he said slowly. “Then we can practice… just a tiny bit more?”

Kageyama’s hand grabbed his, and they came together again. Shouyou’s body was all restlessness, hyperaware of the places where they touched. He imagined touching Kageyama for different reasons, or for no reason at all.

The thought didn’t make him any less restless.

“This time I count,” Kageyama said. “You have a tendency to speed up halfway through.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t, and—”

“I’m starting now.”

“You can’t, I’m still—”

“One-two-three, one-two-three—”

Shouyou found himself stepping. This was okay, like this, in their gym. Just for a little longer, they’d practice.

He wondered if he’d have to think of an excuse to be this close to Kageyama again.


	15. Stuck (in an elevator with) you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuck in an elevator AU, rated G

“It’s clearly your fault as you were  _jumping_!”

“I only started jumping when it got stuck! It wasn’t like I made it stop!”

“You probably made it more stuck,” Tobio said, but his yell had changed to a mutter. It probably  _wasn’t_  the orange-haired boy’s fault as the boy was the approximate size of an elementary schooler. Tobio was just looking for something to distract him; his lungs felt very tight at the prospect of being stuck in here for hours. 

The boy’s hands came up. “You… you wanna fight, huh?!”

Tobio frowned. “What?”

“Your face!”

Tobio stared. The boy was braced for a fight, though his arms shook. Great: he was stuck in an elevator and his companion was terrified of him. Tobio tried a reassuring smile.

The boy backed up into the handrail. 

“My face again?!” Tobio yelled.

“Do something about it!”

Tobio grabbed him by the collar, lifting him up. “I was born with this fa—”

They both fell as the elevator lurched into motion. For a moment they were both stunned—and then Tobio picked himself up and pulled the boy up after him, suddenly mortified by his actions. He’d manhandled a grade schooler while they were stuck in a lift together.

They brushed themselves off after exiting and Tobio stopped when the boy turned in the same—very specific—direction as he did. So did the boy.

“You’re here to check out the team?” Tobio asked incredulously.

The boy nodded, then blanched. “Oh no,” he said. “You too?”

 _Oh no_. The sentiment echoed in Tobio’s mind, too.


	16. First kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canonverse, rated T

Shouyou groaned, more from the shock of tumbling down the hill than the actual pain, though he could tell his elbow was skinned and his hip would be bruised come morning. The grass was slightly damp, and all he could smell was soil and greenery and the light scent of Kageyama, who’d just managed to catch himself on his elbows above him. If he hadn’t, their foreheads would have clacked together and one or both of them might have ended up with a concussion.

“That was close,” Shouyou breathed, feeling laughter bubble up in his stomach. In a moment, Kageyama would start scolding him for tripping and–worse–for pulling him down with him. But when Shouyou’s eyes moved up to meet Kageyama’s, the laughter died down.

There was no time to respond to the look in Kageyama’s eyes; suddenly Kageyama was bending down, and then their mouths were touching,  _finally_ , after months of trying and failing to have a first kiss. Shouyou grabbed at Kageyama’s shirt to pull him in, to say without words that he should keep going; he could feel Kageyama’s body solid beneath his hands, not twitching away from him or freezing up in fear. He heard his own gaspy breath and felt shivers tracking down his body, marking all the places they touched.

Fingertips at his temples drew him back up to the kiss, to Kageyama’s hands cradling his face and Kageyama’s mouth a little stiff against his. It encouraged Shouyou to open his mouth and try and kiss like the movies, though he’d always presumed it would be gross.

It wasn’t gross. It made his stomach feel weird, but it wasn’t gross, not even when Kageyama’s mouth opened against his and their tongues touched and Kageyama made a little noise that could be shock or pleasure or both.

Shouyou wanted to hear it more.

He wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, but when they drew apart they were both breathing fast and heavy. Kageyama stared at him, his face flushed. Shouyou probably looked just as flustered; his whole body was tingling, and he couldn’t even feel all the places he was supposed to be hurt from the fall. He waited for words to rise to his mouth, scolding or teasing or  _something_ , but all that rose up was the damp smell of soil. Kageyama didn’t seem to have anything to say, either.

Maybe that was always the way, with first kisses.


	17. Exhaustion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A love letter to people who still get up & get you stuff when they're exhausted. Canonverse, rated T

Shouyou groaned into the couch. “I’m never moving again.”

“You’re the one who kept going.”

“Yeah, because  _you_  were. And we weren’t even counting so I don’t know my new record.” Injustice lay bitter in his mouth. “I’m never going to do that many exploding jumping jacks again. Never.”

“Well, apparently you’re not ever going to  _move_  again so that makes sense.”

Shouyou did move, then, just a little so he could look at Kageyama. Kageyama was lying next to the couch on his back, his hands up on his chest like little T-rex arms. His face was still red and flushed, and Shouyou could see his legs twitching. Shouyou’s legs were twitching too. They’d probably have to be amputated, but it didn’t matter because he was never moving again.

“I’m so thirsty,” he said without any intention of acting on it. The tap may as well have been on Mars.

“I’ll get you something,” Kageyama said. He didn’t move.

“No you won’t. You can’t move either. I’m going to die of thirst right here.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Kageyama said warningly, which made Shouyou rise up on his elbows.

“There’s no  _way_  you can move,” Shouyou said, just a little revived by Kageyama’s boast. “And even if you could, you’d never be that nice.”

Kageyama’s eyes met his. They narrowed. Very slowly, he rolled up onto his butt, then onto his feet. He stumbled a little when he rose but didn’t fall.

He brought Shouyou a large glass of water.

Shouyou took it from him, his face filled with disbelief.

Kageyama sat down with a thud.

Shouyou took a bashful sip, savoring the feel of water in his parched mouth. Then he looked at Kageyama; Kageyama was watching with a curious expression, almost as if he was waiting for something.

“Kageyama,” Shouyou said carefully. He kept blinking, wondering if the thought that was occurring to him could possibly be true. “Do you like me or something?”

Kageyama’s face went through several expressions fast–outrage, fear, embarrassment–then settled at a vaguely hostile neutral. “What if I did?”

 _You just brought me water_ , Shouyou thought, the fog of his thoughts still thick with disbelief.  _You could barely move and you brought me water._

Shouyou took another sip. “I think that’d be okay.”


	18. sleeptalking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama talks in his sleep; he worries. Rated G

“Kageyama. Hey, Kageyama.”

Someone shoved Tobio’s shoulder hard, and his brain caught up to his ears abruptly. He knew where he was; he was in a room with all his teammates, his futon lumpy beneath him, sheets messy. It was dark, but he knew it was Hinata who’d been shoving him.

“What?” he hissed.

“You were talking in your sleep,” Hinata whispered, though Hinata’s whispering was about as loud as a normal person’s speech.

“So?”

“You were saying his name,” Tsukishima said, which made Tobio’s body seize up with new fear. “ _Hinata, Hinata, Hinata…”_

There was enough subdued laughter at that to tell Tobio most of the room was awake—or at least the people on this side were. His stomach roiled. He’d been saying Hinata’s  _name_ —

“It wasn’t like that,” came a laughing voice. Tanaka. “Hinata, don’t eat that. Hinata, stop fidgeting. Hinata, your shoelace is untied. I think you might have been his mother in a past life, Kageyama.”

Relief made Tobio’s body go limp. Okay—so he hadn’t been moaning Hinata’s name like Tsukishima suggested. That was okay. If anything, he should be commended for keeping Hinata in line even when he was asleep. It could have been so much worse.  _Had_  been worse, some nights, though thankfully never at overnight events.

Tobio pulled up his sheets, turned. “Well, sorry. I’ll try not to.”

“Are you embarrassed, Kageyama-kun?” Hinata asked, his voice filled with glee, his stubby fingers poking Tobio’s back.

“Hinata,” Tobio said, his voice a hiss—

“Go to sleep!” half the room commanded alongside him before erupting in soft laughter.

Tobio was glad of the dark hiding his blushing face. He hoped fervently for dreamless, Hinata-less sleep.


	19. Tsukishima Kei and the Worst Day Ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first years play a tabletop game with the second years; tensions run high, and Kageyama proves himself to be more of an idiot than Tsukishima already thought he was. (Rated T)

The room is dim, lit only by candlelight. Ennoshita’s voice is soft and deep, cracking only occasionally. Kei is impressed; if he was trying to affect that deep a voice his would be cracking every second sentence.

“Your quest, should you choose to accept it, will be to pass the snow-capped mountains and shatter the Ice King’s hold over the ancient land of Ennoshima—”

“Enoshima?” Hinata interrupts.

Kei’s eyebrows draw together in frank annoyance.  _Why_  did the second years let them play again? “Are there snow-capped mountains on Enoshima?  _No_. This is a fantasy game.”

Yamaguchi’s shoulders are shaking, and it’s only then that Kei realizes how stupid he sounds defending Ennoshita’s imaginary land of Ennoshima. He tries not to show that he’s realized it, straightening up in his chair.

“Just listen,” he tells Hinata.

Hinata does, and for the next two minutes Kei has no reason to berate him  _or_ Kageyama. Kei still resents them, though; he enjoys these table top games with the second years, especially since Nishinoya was banned from them. He’s a little sad that Tanaka elected to join Nishinoya in his banishment, but overall it’s worth it not to have a one-hundred and fifty-nine centimeter tornado going on a rampage each time one of his attacks doesn’t go through.

 _But I’m a warrior!_ Kei remembered Nishinoya shouting, standing up with one foot on the chair he’d been sitting on.  _Of course I can chop off the goblin’s head!_

 _You rolled a one_ , Ennoshita calmly informed him.  _You accidentally tickle the goblin. He thinks you’re flirting. He smiles back._

That’s the thing about Ennoshita: the more you complain the harder he makes it for you. That’s something Kei can appreciate.

Ennoshita’s intro finishes. Hinata and Kageyama are blessedly silent, and Kei tries not to look too eager.

“Do we start?” he asks.

Ennoshita looks at him, then around the table: at Yamaguchi, Kinoshita, Narita, Kageyama, Hinata. Hinata is squirming in his chair, face bright.

Kageyama’s brow is furrowed.

“What happens if we don’t accept the quest?” Kageyama asks in a serious voice, like it isn’t a stupid question.

“You, uh…” Ennoshita is temporarily stunned. Kei isn’t surprised; Kageyama’s stupidity can have that effect on people.

“That’d be boring!” Hinata virtually shouts. “Didn’t you hear him? The Ice King is kidnapping children to use in horrible magical experiments. We have to save them!”

Kei can’t shake the feeling that they’ve replaced Nishinoya with a different, orange-haired version of Nishinoya, but he doesn’t say anything. Yamaguchi nudges him.

“Hey,” Yamaguchi said. “You think it’s that simple?”

Kei looks up at Ennoshita, a twinkle of respect causing him to almost smile. “No way.”

Yamaguchi grins.

“We accept the quest already,” Kinoshita says, waving a dismissive hand. “Where are we?”

Ennoshita launches into story mode, describing a tavern, their characters meeting, fights breaking out—

“Wait, but Hinata and I are on the same team,” Kageyama says. “Why am I trying to fight him?”

“Good question,” Kei hears Kinoshita whisper to Narita, prompting a snicker. Kei smiles.

“He pisses you off,” Ennoshita says simply. “Anyway, this is how you guys meet. Decide what to do, and then roll the die.”

“I…” Kageyama looks conflicted. “I punch him in the face, I guess.”

“Hey!”

“Trouble in paradise,” Kei mutters. Yamaguchi looks at him in question, and Kei shakes his head. He hasn’t really found the time or the way to tell Yamaguchi his suspicions that the idiot duo are in idiot love. He doesn’t think they know it, either, though perhaps he isn’t giving their instincts enough credit.

He wonders if Yamaguchi suspects too, whether that glance was for confirmation rather than explanation. What does Yamaguchi think of it, if he suspects?

Kageyama rolls a three out of twenty.

“You try to punch Hinata, but you trip on a loose floorboard and stroke his cheek,” Ennoshita says. “He laughs at you. Hinata, what do you do?”

Kei doesn’t know for sure in the dim light, but he thinks Hinata’s face looks slightly darker than it did before. It also looks like he’s annoyed that Kageyama tried to punch him.

“Attempt to reason with him,” Hinata says, folding his arms petulantly—as if he’d rather try to punch Kageyama back. Maybe he really  _does_ care about those kidnapped children.

Ennoshita’s brows rise, but he nods and waits for Hinata to roll. It’s a good one: fifteen.

“You manage to convince the tall archer not to attack you. He still looks sulky.”

Kei hides a smile.

The introductions continue until their group is kicked out of the tavern, and the game starts in earnest. It soon becomes clear that Hinata is actually good at this—and if Hinata is good, Kageyama seems even worse by comparison. His character stats are already bad from low rolls during character creation, but he constantly chooses to do the wrong thing too. Narita is nearly carried off by an angry harpy mother because of him, and Hinata has to walk with a limp for two rounds after Kageyama accidentally falls on him.

“You see the Frozen Palace ahead of you. You’ve defeated the enchanted snow creatures. How do you approach it?”

“Shoot an arrow at it,” Hinata tells Kageyama, nudging him. Kageyama looks at the site where Hinata nudged him, looking flustered.

Kei tries not to groan.

“Okay,” Kageyama says. “I shoot an arrow at the palace.”

Predictably, he rolls low—and the arrow is shot into a bank of snow not far from them instead of at the palace. Kei sighs, waiting for his turn to come around so he can use his magic to investigate the castle.

Amazingly, there is no shield around the castle, and they walk in unchallenged.

“This Ice King is terrible at his job,” Kageyama complains. “Why has no one stopped him from kidnapping children before us?”

Kinoshita leans over to him. “Maybe the Ice King is so fierce he doesn’t need defenses.”

“Why do you want him to be good at his job?” Hinata asks Kageyama. “He kidnaps children!”

“I’m just saying it’s not realistic—”

Kei doesn’t watch them; he watches Ennoshita roll something, not telling them what he’s doing. It’s high, and Kei swallows.

“You walk into the enchanted palace. The floors are made of polished ice—and as you set foot in it you feel it shift. The long hallway has turned into a slide, and you feel yourself falling.”

All the players roll, trying desperately not to slide down the hallway. Most of them manage to keep from sliding, but Hinata rolls low for once. He disappears from view, yelling.

“Do I have to leave the room?” Hinata asks.

“Yeah—”

“I try to save Hinata,” Kageyama says quickly.

“It’s not your turn,” Ennoshita says.

“Can’t I—”

“Nope.”

Kageyama looks  _actually_  stricken, which might have been cute if it wasn’t Kageyama. Kei and Yamaguchi exchange glances.

Ennoshita nods at Hinata, and Hinata leaves the room. The leftover players navigate the hallway slowly, finding a different way through the palace. Ennoshita leaves the room to talk to Hinata twice before the team reaches the throne room.

“You approach the throne room via the balconies and see Hinata talking to the Ice King. The King holds his magical staff, and the room shimmers around Hinata; it seems he is being held in an invisible cage.” Ennoshita stands up and beckons the real Hinata back into the room.

“I cast Extended Hearing,” Narita says, but rolls too low for it to work. Then it’s Kageyama’s turn.

“I shoot an arrow at the Ice King,” Kageyama says, and rolls the highest he can. Kei groans, right before Hinata yells  _no_.

“Do you do something?” Ennoshita asks Hinata, a glimmer in his eyes.

“ _Can_  I?”

Ennoshita shrugs. It would be hard for others to tell, but Kei can see he’s excited, and he starts to catch up to why. His eyes widen. Wait—no way.

Hinata sighs heavily. “I jump in front of the arrow.”

“ _What?!_ ”

“The Ice King is a good guy,” Kei says resignedly. “I assume.”

Hinata glances at Kageyama. “He was saving the children, not—”

“Hey, no talking while sacrificing your life. Roll!”

Hinata rolls, and in hushed tones Ennoshita describes his dash to save the Ice King. He gets into the arrow’s path and falls, the arrow piercing him.

“The Ice King looks up at the archer on the balcony. ‘Why have you brought death to my halls?’ he asks.”

Kageyama looks gutted, staring at Hinata. “Why’d you jump in front?” he asks, ignoring the game.

Hinata shrugs.

“Can I?” Kei asks, and Ennoshita nods. “I cast Greater Healing on Hinata.”

“The spell works, but it only buys him some time. Hinata will live to roll one more time.”

“That’s not fair!” Kageyama says.

One by one, the players with healing powers try to save Hinata—but none of them manage to buy him more time. Yamaguchi tries to get the Ice King to heal Hinata, but the Ice King can only do ice magic. A hush has fallen over the room by the time it’s Kageyama’s turn.

“Try to stop the bleeding?” Kageyama says, and Ennoshita narrates his action—Kageyama holding Hinata and trying to save him. He describes the glittering throne room of the ice palace around them, the red of Hinata’s blood against translucent tiles.

“Hinata?” Ennoshita says softly. “Your turn.”

Hinata’s eyes are narrowed. He’s looking at Kageyama questioningly, as if he’s working on a puzzle. Kei’s stomach is tight with anticipation. The idiot duo being in idiot love is gross, but somehow the story wound around it allows him to forget that for the moment, caught up in the game.

Hinata nods to himself and rolls. It’s high.

“I kiss Kageyama on the mouth before dying. Can I say something cool, too?”

Ennoshita’s bites his lip before nodding, and Kei gets the impression he’s holding back laughter.

“Hinata reaches up and kisses Kageyama before falling back in his arms. ‘I think,’ Hinata says weakly. ‘I think maybe we were friends all along.’ His eyes close. The effects of Tsukishima’s spell give, and his lungs fill with blood instead of oxygen. He dies without a sound.”

Kageyama stares, his gaze moving from Hinata to Ennoshita and back as if waiting for someone to explain to him, but no one does. Hinata runs out of the room dramatically, making dying sounds despite Ennoshita’s narration.

Finally Kageyama’s gaze settles on Ennoshita.

“He… kissed me?”

“Yep.”

“Is that allowed?”

Ennoshita laughs. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“But he didn’t really do it,” Kageyama says, and Kei’s brows draw together. _What?_  Is Kageyama having trouble distinguishing between reality and fiction? Of course Hinata didn’t kiss him right here at the table—

Kageyama jumps up from his chair and runs after Hinata, causing laughter to ripple through the room. Kei looks at his teammates in frank consternation.

“What does he mean he didn’t really do it?” Kei asks.

But no one is in a state to answer him; the second years are stifling laughter and Yamaguchi is just looking at the door stunned.

“Wait, you all knew? That they were… you know?” Kei says. “You planned this?”

Ennoshita takes a deep breath. “What, the scene? No way. I mean, I kind of hoped something dramatic would happen, but that last part was all Hinata.”

“But we  _did_  think those two had a thing,” Narita says. He looks surprisingly happy about it.

“You thought so too, didn’t you?” Ennoshita asks Kei.

“Well, yeah—”

“Anyway, good for them,” Narita says. “Shall we keep going?”

Kei stands up. They should keep going, but they’re one player short. He walks to the door in self-righteous annoyance, words on the tip of his tongue.  _You don’t leave in the middle of a game_ , he hears himself saying, and he’s thinking of some sort of King-joke to make afterwards when he swings the door open—and sees that Hinata and Kageyama didn’t get far. In fact, they’re still standing in the middle of the kitchen, and Kageyama is gripping either side of Hinata’s face, and they’re—ugh—kissing.

Kei feels his stomach drop, his cheeks flush. He tries very hard not to notice anything, willing himself to go temporarily blind, but in the moment it takes him to slam the door shut again he’s already seen the way Hinata is grabbing at Kageyama’s shirt and how Kageyama’s back is curved to accommodate Hinata’s lesser height in a way that looks almost  _tender_.

God, this is the worst day ever.

The slamming of the door is followed by a roar of laughter from inside the room. He turns to look at his companions—the second years clutching their stomachs, Yamaguchi covering his mouth as he laughs.

“Your face!” Kinoshita crows.

Kei looks at Yamaguchi, feeling betrayed by his laughter.

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi manages.

“Shut up,” Kei mumbles as he sits back down. By unanimous vote, they decide to carry on the game— _without_  their party’s archer this time.

Kei sure as hell isn’t going to try and fetch him.


	20. heartache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tiny lovesick Tobio drabble, rated G

Tobio pressed a hand to his chest, imagining an ache.  _Heartache_ , people called it when you longed for something you couldn’t have—but it wasn’t his heart that was aching. It was more of a full-body heaviness, worse whenever he thought of his hopeless crush.

“Your chest hurt?” Hinata asked, inclining his head in that birdlike way. Imagined heartache intensified.

“Yeah,” Tobio said, because it would sound less suspicious than no.

“Here, hands off,” Hinata said. He grinned, rubbing his hands together hard before placing them on Tobio’s chest as if they were defibrillators. They were hot as brands. “Healing hands! My mother was watching a program yesterday, and—”

Tobio listened with half an ear as Hinata described yesterday’s TV program. He felt the warmth of Hinata’s palms sink into him, causing the heaviness to flicker. It was there—it wasn’t—it was there—it wasn’t. When Hinata pulled back it returned in full.

“Better?” he asked.

“Hm,” said Tobio. “Maybe.”


	21. Kenma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama having to deal with a (very) close friendship between Hinata & Kenma (and wondering where he fits in). Rated G, pre-relationship

At first the relationship between Kenma and Hinata made Tobio nervous. There were several factors:

One: Kenma wasn’t like Hinata. They were polar opposites. They shouldn’t have gotten along—but they did. Why was that?

Two: Kenma was a setter. Worse, he was a good setter who knew how to draw the most out of his teammates—and he and Hinata never fought, unlike Tobio and Hinata. Tobio had always assumed that if he screwed up badly, at the very least Hinata would still want his tosses—but he was fast friends with a solid replacement.

Three: the way Kenma and Hinata would touch one another, whether it was Hinata’s hand curling around Kenma’s wrist to pull him towards a display in main street or Kenma resting his head on Hinata’s shoulder when he was tired. They touched and it wasn’t a big deal—like intimacy came naturally to them, when it was something Tobio had had to learn slowly. But it couldn’t have come easily to Kenma either; Tobio saw the way he shocked away from others, kept them at a safe distance.

“Is Kenma your boyfriend?” Tobio heard Natsu ask once, when Hinata had jumped at a text then replied while grinning at the screen. They were meant to be doing homework together; Tobio tried not to look pissed off.

“No,” Hinata said, pocketing his phone. “But I like him as much as one.”

Tobio felt his stomach drop.

“But not like a boyfriend!” Hinata said, with a strange, nervous glance at Tobio. “Like a… hm. Like a best friend, maybe? He’s really different from everyone else I know, but in a good way.”

“But you sleep in the same bed,” Natsu said. Was she aware of the torture she was inflicting on Tobio?

“Yeah,” Hinata said. “I think Kenma likes to be touching someone when he sleeps. Maybe he has nightmares.”

Could Tobio pretend to have nightmares?

“None of your other friends sleep in your bed,” Natsu said, inclining her tiny head.

“That’s because they wouldn’t understand. It’s just…” Hinata made a hand motion, flapping at air as if to dispel cobwebs. “We don’t have to talk about it because we know what we want from each other. Kenma just wants to be my friend.”

“Okay,” Natsu said.  _Okay_ , Tobio thought. Maybe it wasn’t worrying for Hinata to have a best friend he was so comfortable with. Maybe there was no reason to be jealous of Kenma, beyond the fact that he seemed to be able to talk to Hinata and actually communicate his feelings, unlike Tobio. Maybe next time Karasuno and Nekoma had a joint practice, Tobio would manage to say something to Kenma that didn’t make the other boy raise his shoulders and slink away—but he’d have to ask Hinata for advice first.

Tobio didn’t like the thought of that, asking for Hinata’s advice, but it couldn’t be helped. If he was going to have Hinata in his life, he was going to have Kenma too—and maybe that wasn’t such a bad addition.


	22. True Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prompt to fit a kagehina drabble to the lyrics "I used to think that the day would never come / That my life would depend on the morning sun" -- True Faith by New Order
> 
> (graduation, rated G)

Graduation songs were still ringing in Tobio’s ears, his back aching from the uncomfortable chairs they’d been sitting in for the ceremony. He’d walked to the back of the gym to get away from all the commotion—the pictures, the tears, the underclassmen swearing to carry on proud traditions—and for a long time he’d thought he was alone.

“Hey,” he heard from behind him. He knew immediately who that bright voice belonged to.

“Hey,” Tobio said, turning. Hinata was standing with his hands in his pockets, mirroring Tobio’s posture—but Hinata looked different than he did. His hair was ruffled, his uniform wrinkled from continual grabbing and tugging. He must have been in a hundred pictures today, but if he was tired from smiling he didn’t show it; the corners of his mouth were still pulled up in a grin.

“What were you looking at?” he asked.

Tobio shrugged. “The sky.” 

He’d been mostly zoned out, actually, but the last thing he wanted was Hinata accusing him of being an airhead.

Hinata looked at the sky as if he’d find something interesting up there—and it looked like he did find something. His eyes were clear, that smile still there. “You were probably thinking things like,  _ah, the end of my glorious high school days,_  or,  _as the clouds move on, so must I…”_

Tobio snorted. “I definitely wasn’t thinking that.”

“Hm,” Hinata said. His hands were still in his pockets, but he bounced on the balls of his feet—as if stillness was foreign to him. Tobio knew that it was.

“Well,” Hinata said, looking at that same sky, “I am.”

Tobio’s brows crinkled.  _As the clouds move on, so must I?_  Did Hinata really think like that?

“The world, right?” Hinata said. For a moment Tobio was confused—and then he remembered their promise from first year. He shivered, though not because of the spring chill in the air.

“The world,” he agreed, looking up.


End file.
